by T. A. White
Since she could no longer sense her body, Tate didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. All she knew was that she was surrounded by an unrelenting black, so pure it was what she once imagined existence after death would be like.
Was she dead?
Tate didn’t know nor did the thought give rise to fear. There was a certain peace in this place. A serenity that couldn’t be put into words.
Gradually, she became aware she wasn’t alone in the emptiness. Beside her, a bright light hovered, containing all the radiance and beauty of a supernova. Within its dazzling core rested a curled-up dragon, tiny paws clenching its tail as it dreamed.
Ilith, a part of Tate whispered. Her dragon. Her friend.
Tate felt drawn to that existence as if it called to the deepest part of herself. She yearned to embrace the light, to warm herself by its fire. Without it, she wasn’t complete.
Yet, no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t take the first step in the dragon’s direction. She could only watch. And admire. And hope the dragon’s dreams were sweet.
Tate didn’t know how long she floated there, watching over her dragon in the darkness. The change was gradual. Almost unnoticeable, as feeling slowly seeped into her limbs and the black faded away.
Tate opened her eyes to a white ceiling. She was lying on her back, a glass cylinder encasing her body.
For a moment, only a split second, fear gripped her by the throat as a sinking dread filled her at the thought of having lost herself again. Of time passing without her knowledge. How long had it been? Decades? Centuries? Were her friends still in this world? Was there even a world left?
Reason reasserted itself almost instantly. She still knew who she was. Her name. The faces of her friends. The events leading to her current predicament. If she’d gone into sleep, she’d have woken with none of those things. She’d be lost again, her history wiped clean.
Not much time could have passed, she realized. Still, that thought didn’t give her the comfort it should have. She didn’t know why she was in this glass cylinder or who had put her in it or what had happened after the events on the palace lawn.
Were Ryu and the rest alive? Had Nathan already killed them? Had he managed to raise the ship?
Not knowing the answers to these questions sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. One step at a time, she told herself.
As if sensing that thought, the glass cylinder around her receded.
Tate sucked in a huge breath of air. Even though she could breathe in that cylinder, it felt good to taste the outside. To breathe air that wasn’t enclosed in glass.
“You’re awake.” A familiar voice came from somewhere to her left.
Tate didn’t immediately respond, sitting upright and touching her chest with a wondering expression. How was she not dead? The sword had done extensive damage. She didn’t think she’d imagined that.
“I put you in a med pod, which sustained your life long enough for your relic and the pod to repair the damage. Now that we’ve gotten that cleared up, perhaps you could do something about these two,” Peter said.
Tate looked up and blinked several times at the view in front of her.
A Veles with the same fur pattern as Night stood upright on two feet in a humanoid form that was much furrier and more terrifying than the other Veles she knew. He had Peter pinned to a wall, his hand covered in fur and tipped with dangerous looking claws wrapped around Peter’s throat. With a simple flex of his fingers, he could tear out the other man’s throat.
On his shoulder, Rath crouched, his lips lifted to expose sharp teeth. Every muscle in his body was poised to strike, and the way he watched Peter said the other’s death was a foregone conclusion.
“Night?” Tate said, not hiding her shock as she looked at the humanoid Veles.
The events immediately preceding her loss of consciousness came back to her. Night’s desperate leap. Rath’s determined dive. The way they’d landed in her arms right before everything went dark.
They must have been pulled along because they were touching Tate when Peter did whatever he did.
The Veles she thought was Night looked back at her. There was no mistaking it. Those were Night’s eyes. They held the same intelligence. The same fierce drive and loyalty.
Tate sucked in a sobbing breath. “Oh, thank the Saviors.”
Time hadn’t passed her by like it had last time. Her friends and family still existed in this time and place.
“Tate.” Night’s voice was rough. The word awkward on his tongue, as if speaking aloud was a foreign act to him.
Choked sobs escaped despite Tate’s best efforts to suppress them. “I thought I’d slept. That I’d never see you or Dewdrop again.”
Until this moment, Tate had never realized this was her worst fear. That she’d go into sleep and wake up in a world entirely different than the one she’d known. Or that she’d wake up back in the cylinder only to find that everything that had happened was nothing more than a dream.
Once you tasted happiness after knowing sadness, there was always a fear it might disappear. A mirage that would leave you more bereft than before.
Rath left Night’s shoulder, winging his way to her lap where he settled. He butted his head against her, a purring sound rumbling from his chest.
Tate bent over him, gathering him in her arms as she let emotion roll through her. A flood of tears wiped clean the feelings she’d been suppressing since waking up on an isolated spit of land with no memories of who she was. All the fear and anxiety that she’d pretended didn’t exist gradually lessened. It didn’t vanish entirely—Tate didn’t think it ever would—but it no longer ruled her thoughts and nightmares.
Finally, when the tidal wave of emotion had run its course, Tate became aware of Rath nuzzling her wet cheeks as he made whirring sounds. A small rumble of purring came from Night, who now stood within touching distance.
“You are safe; we are here,” he told her.
Tate’s laugh was thick and held the remnants of her crying jag. “I like the new look.”
Night lifted his shoulders in a jerky movement, as if trying to get settled in the new form. “Do you think Mia will?”
Tate caught her breath at the self-conscious question. Her friend was many things. Arrogant among them. For him to show this side of himself in relation to Mia told Tate the two’s relationship was even more developed than she and Dewdrop thought.
A Veles as arrogant as Night would only care about someone else’s opinion if that person held some importance to them.
“I think she will.”
Night’s humanoid form was a little different than the other Veles Tate had met, holding many of the traits of his bearcat form. A more pronounced snout, along with ears and a tail. His limbs were structured differently too. Tate could tell at a glance they were formed in such a way that he’d lose none of the power and speed of his bearcat form, fixing the weakness common in other Veles who were much stronger in their bearcat form.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. His appearance is utterly terrifying,” Peter said from where he still stood against the wall.
“I quite like it,” Tate said, not taking her eyes off Night. “It’s suits you. It’s the perfect form for an apex killer.”
Night’s lips lifted in a scary smile that showcased his sharp teeth and the pointed ears on his head swiveled, showing his satisfaction with that description. “This form is much better for fighting and killing than others.”
Tate grinned. She thought he’d appreciate that observation. For Night, the ability to protect his family was far more important than a fleeting sense of beauty.
“What happened while I was out?” With some effort, Tate managed to swing her legs over the edge of the bed she was laying in, careful not to dislodge Rath.
Night showed his fangs as he and the rest of them turned their attention to Peter, who met their gazes with a determined one of his own.
“You should be thanking me
instead of looking at me like you want to kill me,” Peter said with no hint of the fear he should have with three powerful predators staring at him like he was their next dinner.
“Thank you so much,” Night growled.
“I don’t remember you being this bold the first time we met.” The Peter she’d known then was a timid man who’d somehow gotten roped into Christopher’s plots. He’d been protective of his human companion but not assertive—and certainly not sarcastic or bold.
It made her wonder if the Peter of then was simply a construct he’d created to fool Christopher—or Tate.
Her eyes narrowed as she took a closer look at him. Outwardly, he resembled a Silva. The same muscular frame. The amber eyes that were common in that race. The multi-hued brown hair threaded through with caramel strands.
Yet Tate couldn’t help the feeling that something was different.
“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention,” Peter responded.
Tate’s eyes narrowed. It was possible. At the time, she’d been so concerned with what Christopher was up to that she’d never spared a thought for this man.
“You killed Christopher,” Tate accused.
Not only that, she now suspected he was the architect behind several of Christopher’s actions.
“I haven’t seen Christopher since he hit me on the back of the head after our encounter with the guardian of the Catsinth desert.”
“And yet I saw you break him out of prison.”
Peter scoffed. “That wasn’t me. You should know by now that Nathan has someone who can change his appearance, or have you forgotten the last few hours already?”
“Or maybe you’re lying,” Night snarled.
Peter’s shoulders bent. “I wouldn’t have killed Christopher. You may not believe me, but we were friends.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe you.” Tate changed the subject. “Where are we?”
“The tunnels under Aurelia.”
It looked like her suspicions had been right.
“Why would you seek sanctuary in a place where Ai has eyes and ears everywhere?”
It was only a matter of time before the minor goddess realized they were in her domain. Their chances of winning against her on her home territory were close to zero.
All the more reason Peter’s choice of places to lie low confused her.
“We’re in a dormant section of the original ship. She won’t know we’re here because for her this place simply doesn’t exist,” Peter explained.
“A dead spot,” Tate said slowly.
“Yes,” Peter agreed. “My guess is it’s a remnant from the war between the Saviors and Creators. A last-ditch fail-safe in the event they lost the rest of the ship to their enemy but didn’t have time to evacuate.”
Tate couldn’t help but agree. It sounded like a tactic one of those four would have come up with.
Tate stroked Rath’s back, crooning to him. “From your presence I can only assume Ryu is alive.”
“From what my equipment tells me, he and the rest were captured and transported to the ship’s command center,” Peter said.
Tate set Rath on the bed next to her and scooted to the edge.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked.
“I’m going to go rescue them.”
They had an advantage now. Nathan probably assumed Tate was dead or incapacitated. He never would have guessed one of their med beds was still active.
Even if he did, it would have been virtually impossible for them to repair such a severe wound. If the relic hadn’t been capable of stopping the bleeding and assisting in the repair, Tate likely would have expired.
“Are you insane?” Peter demanded.
“It never fails to surprise me how often I get asked that.”
Night’s expression was almost comical as he nodded seriously.
Tate grimaced as she stretched one foot to the ground and stood, wobbling slightly before catching herself on the bed.
Looked like her miraculous recovery had also left her a little weak from the close brush with death. And lucky her, she was about to go have another one.
No matter, though. She was sure she’d be fine as soon as she got going again.
“Perhaps that’s because you are,” Peter argued. “There is at least a half mile of tunnel and two-level changes between here and there. You’ll never make it without tripping one of the internal warning devices and alerting them that you’re here.”
“That doesn’t change what I need to do,” Tate said calmly. “Nathan plans to raise the ship and resurrect the Creators. He needs to be stopped.”
Peter stared at her for several seconds before letting out a guffaw.
Night’s shoulders bunched. “What’s so funny?”
“You are,” Peter said finally getting a hold of himself after his laughter died down. “What makes you think something as asinine as that is his goal?”
Night and Tate shared a look.
“You’re saying it’s not,” Tate guessed.
Peter’s expression said damn right he was. “One thing you can count on with the Ijiri is that there is no loyalty among them. A member of their number wouldn’t go to all this trouble to raise the remaining ones unless there was something in it for them. Right now, Nathan has no equal—
except maybe you. If he played his cards right, he could rule by himself with no issue. Tell me why you would think he’d want to share power.”
Peter made a very good point.
“What other reasons could he have for targeting the ship?” Tate asked.
“I can think of one major one. The half Ijiri that Jax melded with the artificial intelligence he created, then bound to this place.”
“It’s funny you say that. I didn’t even know Ai was connected to the Ijiri until a little bit ago.”
When Jax told her as much in her dream. So how did this man know?
“Who are you really? And how did you know about the dead zone?”
Night dropped into a slinking prowl as he stalked Peter. The Silva man backed away, sliding along the wall while keeping one eye on the Veles. Rath leaned against Tate’s side, his tiredness seeping into her consciousness.
She set one hand on him with a frown. Dragons weren’t meant to be this far from their bonded. He’d likely suffer worse and worse consequences as time went on.
My potential mate will be fine, Ilith whispered.
A connection opened between the three of them, energy flooding down their bonds.
Tate’s lips parted as she felt along the string tying her to each. After a long moment getting lost in the new sensation, she pushed it to the side to concentrate on Peter.
“I suggest you answer her,” Night said in his gravelly voice. “Or I’ll find a new way to amuse myself.”
There was a look on Peter’s face that said he knew he’d screwed up and revealed something he shouldn’t have.
Still, he held silent. Not flinching even when Night grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into another wall. He remained resolute as Night thrust his face close to the other man’s and roared, giving Peter an up-close look at the shockingly large fangs of his humanoid form.
Instead, Peter pressed his lips together and glared at Night, making it clear he wouldn’t bow to pressure.
Tate tapped her fingers on her arm as she considered the other man. “For you to know that, you would have had to be present during that era.”
What’s more, he would have had to have Jax’s trust on some level. Somehow, she didn’t think her security conscious friend would easily let others know about Ai and the others.
He hadn’t even written that secret down, instead relying on his avatar and the shards the other Saviors left behind to pass the message.
“You should know you’re not getting out of here alive unless you convince me you’re not a threat,” Tate said, smiling.
“I saved your life.”
“And for that I thank you, but I’d be an idiot if I
didn’t suspect you of ulterior motives.”
Tate was grateful. Truly. That didn’t mean she’d be a fool and trust blindly. That was simply a good way to get a dagger in the back.
“I’m guessing you’re a sleeper.”
He’d have to be to exist in the here and now. He wasn’t dragon-ridden and even the chance of one of them surviving all these centuries was small.
Peter squirmed in Night’s hold, pushing the Veles’s hand away. Night let him but continued to hover over him in silent threat.
“Alright. Fine. You win. Yes, I was a sleeper but not in the way you likely think.”
“What’s your relationship with Jax and the rest?”
“You’re surprisingly close.” Peter lifted his chin. “I’m Kenneth’s son.”
There was a hint of rebelliousness in his gaze as if he expected her to ridicule his claim. Like he’d faced similar situations in the past and been forced to bear it.
He was right in that Tate didn’t believe him, but not for the reasons he thought.
“You’re Silva,” Tate said.
“Half Silva,” he corrected. “My mother was a slave Kenneth freed.”
“I don’t believe Kenneth would put his son into sleep.” Nor could she see any of the others doing it either.
“It’s funny hearing the person my father so thoroughly betrayed say that.” Peter’s lips quirked as he held up his hands, showing fingers that were much shorter than they should be. There was scarring on the nubs and the claws he should have had were missing. “Sentiment back then wasn’t so kind to the offspring of a Savior who carried the blood of his former enemies.”
“You’re saying he put you into sleep in the hopes of a better future when you woke up,” Tate said flatly.
“It’s what they did for you, after all.”
The last thing Kenneth said in that dream place came back to her. He’d mentioned a kid. Peter didn’t strike her as particularly child-like, but Kenneth’s words seemed to support his claim no matter how Tate wanted to deny it.
“How does Christopher fit in with all this?”
Peter hesitated. “In the memory lake, you saw the thing that set him on his course. What you didn’t see was the reason and what happened afterward.”